


The Coffee Hunters

by JustRavenclaw



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, M/M, One Shot, Stanford, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-21 22:34:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8262839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustRavenclaw/pseuds/JustRavenclaw
Summary: All Dean wants is a cup of coffee, and all Castiel needs is adventure."I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shopI love so muchAll of the while, I never knewAll of the while, all of the while,it was you"– Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop, Landon Pigg





	

**Author's Note:**

> i made a small accompanying playlist to this one-shot, which you can listen to here:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLmoNYK-pzFFnmXE1jBqM78mfkYQOgC8km
> 
> enjoy!

Dean walks through the Stanford doors, his head held up high. Sun rays shining from the glassy dome hit his eyes and he looks down, shielding his eyes with his arms. Sam texted him earlier, instructing him on how to get to the mammoth library. Dean runs up the stairs, manoeuvring between college students busy with intellectual debates and exchanging life updates. As he nears the library, Dean can't help but wonder how his life would have turned out like if he had pursued college like his brother. What would he have majored in? Dean isn't exactly talented or skilled. Maybe something to do with engineering, but that was too pretentious for his taste. He wasn't the brightest in his school days either. Dean thinks that if he had tried harder perhaps, he could have at least gotten average grade.

But none of that mattered since it was always him or his brother, and Dean would give an arm and leg to ensure that Sam stays in college and becomes the next Rupert Murdoch. Unless of course he isn't a lawyer; Dean doesn't exactly care to memorise what famous people do. Just as he is about to enter the library, Dean's phone vibrates at his side. He fishes it out of his leather jacket. 

_Caught up in meeting. Will be around an hour late. Sorry. Good coffee shop two buildings ahead._

Dean is mad at Sam for several reasons, including but not limited to the way he texts and the vague instructions. Two buildings ahead in Stanford could be in any direction. Dean isn't planning on talking to anyone in the university because the only person he cares about in a four miles' radius is Sam. He walks around until he stumbles upon  _a_ coffee shop, though he isn't sure if it is  _the_ coffee shop. Dean needs to get the caffeine in his system so he entered Coupa Coffee anyway.

The strong aroma of coffee climbs through Dean's nose and into his body. He inhales several times to savour it. Looking around, his eyes trail along the pale yellow walls that are cut off with the singular brick orange wall behind the counter. The shop is insanely crowded so Dean decides it's better to get in line. He leans against the fridge and studies the healthy choices the store has to offer, and he suddenly isn't so nervous about Sam's health anymore. With choices like these, he could eat something new everyday till the end of his school years. Dean people watches: the sleep deprived students, the arguing couples, and the huddled groups of friends. Once it was his turn, Dean simply asks for "coffee".

"What kind, sir?" The cheery cashier answers with a question. "Drip? Latte? Cappuccino? You can try our new cold brew, or frappes. I would recommend the Marron, our strong and aromatic Venezuelan latte," she continues.

"Black," Dean says, as he was lost for other words. When did coffee become anything more than black or a cappuccino? Moreover, he thinks coffee tasted best if it was brewed in a diner back home.

"I'll give you an expresso. What size?" She wonders as she reaches for the cup.

"Jesus, a big one."

"Large expresso coming right up!"

Dean picks up his coffee once it's ready. It came in a black paper cup with the shop's colourful logo stamped over it. He rolls his eyes then looks around for an empty table, to no success. He watches a pair of who could only be professors leave a table and he lurches at it, claiming it by placing his expresso cup before another couple could take it. He takes a seat and smiles apologetically at them. He isn't exactly apologetic, though, because they are the ones who get to enjoy an education worth more than what Dean will make his whole life. He leans back in his chair and looks out the window next to him at the beautiful green scenery. Stanford is lively with vegetation, sunlight and people.

A few minutes later, he looks back around the coffee shop. A boy around Dean's age wonders around, perhaps looking for a table the same way Dean was a few minutes ago. He's wearing a white button up t-shirt, tucked in black slacks, with a blue tie. Dean wonders if this was standard Stanford uniform, or if the boy was a student at all. The other boy glances at Dean then looks away with disappointment. Dean's mind gets preoccupied by his eyes for a few seconds. Everything about that boy is normal – brown hair, square face, average posture. But his blue eyes are enough to intrigue Dean. He doesn't understand why, but he has an inexplicable urge to know everything about him, to hear him tell tales to no end.

"Hey," Dean finally calls out for him. "I don't know how it works for y'all California folks, but if a chair's empty in Lawrence, you sit your ass on it."

The boy is taken aback but he slowly approaches Dean and takes a seat. The both of them sip on their coffee slowly, stealing glances, no one sure if they should start a conversation.

"Do you have a problem with the coffee?" The boy, whom Dean wishes he could stop calling him that, asks.

"The coffee?"

"You keep making a face every time you take a sip."

"Ah," Dean can't help but laugh. "It's just trying too hard to be good, that it's not."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that it's nothing special. I don't feel nostalgic when I drink this. I don't feel like it redefined the meaning of coffee. I don't feel like I'm ready to seize the day. But I feel like it wants me to feel all of that," Dean explains.

"Very interesting," he replies.

"Dean Winchester," he says as he holds a hand out. "You are?"

"Castiel," he reveals, shaking Dean's hand.

"No last name?" Dean quizzes him.

"No last name."

If he wasn't intrigued before, Dean surely wants to all know about Castiel now.

* * *

 "So you're from Kansas?" Castiel asks as he pushes his cup back and forth between his hands. "You study here?"

"Impressive. Not many people know where Lawrence is," Dean replies. "I don't. I'm just here to see my brother, Sam, do you know him? He studies law, I work at a local bar and the garage back home. I travel a lot though. Me n' my impala have seen the whole damn country," Dean says casually. He watches a twinkle form in Castiel's eyes as they slightly widen at his words. They give away a sense of longing. 

"Sam Winchester! That's why your last name sounded familiar!" Castiel explains, as the look fades away, that he had an elective course with Sam one time. They worked on a group project and Sam was extremely smart and dedicated. Sam and Castiel are not the same year, however. Castiel is in his last semester, and Sam is in his second. 

"He's a good kid, ain't he?" Dean smiles in pride.

"Yes. I enjoyed working with him a lot."

"An elective, huh? You don't study law then?"

"I study Earth." Castiel simply says.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Dean raises an eyebrow, but Castiel finally smiles for the first time. It's lopsided, as if his mouth isn't exactly sure what to do. Dean would press him to answer his question if only the smile wasn't so charming.

"Not a joke. I used to study medicine, but it was so easy to me. I did for a year and decided I wanted to do something better so I shifted to the School of Earth, Energy and Environmental Sciences. We have a self destructive nature, and I wanted to fix what we do. Also, the courses are quiet challenging, and I think I'd rather take a challenge than have something easily handed over to me. Plus isn't it cool to say that you study earth?"

Earth. Maybe that's what Dean would study if he has the brains and money for college. There are so many mysteries around the earth Dean would like to understand, like why the sky is blue because no one ever exactly explained this to him. "It just is," isn't a good enough answer. Maybe him and Castiel could have even been friends.

Castiel continues explaining the different courses he takes, dwelling on his favourite ones. Dean doesn't get most of what he says, so Castiel uses car parts as analogies. Dean wonders if there was any limit to the other boy's knowledge.

"Why is the sky blue, Castiel?" Dean finds himself asking in a moment of comfortable silence.

"Sunlight is all the colours combined. In nature, objects absorb the colours they need from it, and reflect back the colour they don't. Molecules in the air absorb all colours from the sunlight, except blue, which is reflected back and that's why we see the sky as blue during the day. The air scatters away from the sun rays by sunset, and that's why we see the orangey red colours at that time."

Dean smiles too wide. He looks at the sky everyday, but he never felt the need to solve this mystery until today. He doesn't know why it feels as if this piece of information just changed his life. It just does.

"You have your car right? Do you want to get coffee somewhere else if this one is so terrible?" Cas suggests.

"Let me check with my brother," Dean says as he unlocks his phone, revealing three messages from Sam and two missed calls. Sam tells Dean he was done with the meeting. The second one asks where the hell he was. The third one, which Sam just sent three minutes ago, reads that he had to go to class, and they can meet after. "Well, looks like I have the time."

They walk out to the impala and Castiel raises his eyebrows, impressed at its condition and Dean feels a pang of pride. He drives to the other side of campus based on Castiel's directions to a place that reads "Bubble Tea." Castiel tells Dean to wait in the car and later comes back with two large plastic cups filled with iced coffee and obscure black bubbles sat at the bottom. He gets in the car and hands Dean one and keeps the other.

"This is bubbled iced coffee. It's an Asian drink, and it's one of my favourites on campus. It's definitely a guilty pleasure. The bubbles on the bottom are tapioca. Sweet and delicious," Castiel says then takes a sip of his coffee.

Dean looks wearily at the cup then slowly takes a sip. He chews on the tapioca balls and cringes. "Everything about this drink is awful!" He exclaims with a grimace. "It's too sweet, it don't taste like coffee, man!"

Castiel laughs loudly and Dean can't help but join in. Since the first stop disappointed him so much, Dean demands he chooses the next destination.

"Any nearby diners?" He asks as he puts the part on drive.

"Out in Palo. Just get out of campus," Castiel ushers him. Dean puts on an AC/DC disk and sings along loudly to Have a Drink on Me.

"This music is terrible!" Castiel shouts over the sound, so Dean naturally turns it up louder. Castiel rolls his eyes but listens to Dean instead of the band.

Dean parks and they walk into the diner. The neighbourhood is quiet and the only sound Dean can make out is their shoes against the rubble.

"Did you have a presentation today or something? Why're you dressed so fancy?" Dean asks as he glances at Castiel's brown leather shoes.

"Can't a person just dress up for their leisure?" Castiel asks back.

"Touché, I guess," Dean replies as he opens the door for him.

* * *

The diner is similar to the one Dean spends most of his time at back in Lawrence. That's the charm of diners, Dean finds. They'll never betray you, or try to be different and mess it up. They'll always comfort you and have the right things to offer. They'll always make you feel at home. Stayin' Alive by the Bee Gees blares through the speakers and Dean hums along.

They sit at a booth opposite from each other's. "Are we just sticking to coffee or am I allowed to eat?" Dean jokes.

"I'll think about it, I mean you could lose the pounds," Castiel retorts quickly.

"I'll have two burgers, cheese fries and coffee," Dean orders in spite of Castiel, looking up at the waitress who smirks back at him. She twirls a lock of her curly ginger hair as she chews a piece of gum. Dean looks back at Castiel.

"I'll have coffee and waffles, please," Castiel says absentmindedly. "Do you have any siblings besides Sam?" He adds when the waitress leaves.

"Nah, it's just us and our old man. Or well, our dad always goes away with his friends, so it's just us. Or well, just me – Sammy's in Stanford and all. You?"

"Plenty."

"Do they all not have last names either?" Dean teases.

"It's Shurley."

Dean dwells on the revelation and his eyes slowly widen. "Shurley as in Chuck Shurley? The guy literally owns everything in America, in the world! You're his son?" Dean asks in amazement as Castiel nods uncomfortably, and he now understands why Castiel didn't disclose his last name earlier.

"I couldn't care for shit you know? It's just weird that you didn't share it earlier. Thank you for telling me, I'd like to know more about you for other than that, you know. Money's stupid," Dean says truthfully.

"You're rambling. It's fine, honestly," Castiel smiles again.

"Okay, sure. Uhm so, you have any hobbies?"

"I like to read," Castiel instantly states. "There's so much literature in the world. It overwhelms me, sometimes. I'm going to die someday and I still wouldn't have even read half of the books in the word. Also movies are wonderful. You get to live with people for a couple of hours and experience different cultures, times, socioeconomic statuses, genders, sexualities, religions and so much more, outside of your own. Isn't that amazing?"

Dean hates himself for thinking that, because he just met him, but he wonders where Castiel has been all his life and why are they just meeting now? He never heard anyone speak the same way Castiel does. He's not smart, but intellectual. How does he know all of this information? When did he know it?

"It is amazing."

"Do you have any hobbies?"

"Like I told you, I like to travel. Nothing fancy, just being on the go, seeing as much of it as I can. I don't do anything fancy, but getting to know the people and eating the good food. You know, it feels like you can never know a place enough. You keep coming back and you find new things to do and try."

"That sounds amazing," Castiel sighs.

"You've never been out of California?"

"I have, but they weren't exactly exciting."

"What do you mean?"

"I went on trips with my family when I was younger. They're very superficial though. None of it mattered. I had to spend time with aristocrats and help plan my dad's empire. I never really got to do my own thing, you know?" Castiel's tone sounds more of a plead than a question.

"I'm sorry, Cas," Dean intends to think of some form of advise but is interrupted by Castiel's grin. "What's so funny?"

"You called me Cas."

"Didn't know we're stating the obvious," Dean says feeling his cheeks getting warmer.

"So, Dean, do you only listen to diner music and AC/DC or do you have a better taste?"

They spend the next hour alone discussing music, as they eat and drink coffee: Dean takes his black, while Castiel drenches his in sugar and cream. Dean raves about his love for Rock and oldies, while Castiel explains why classical and folk music are important to society. Their tastes are extremely different, they have found, but their passion is exactly the same.

"I'd say I'm getting tired. Should we go to the next stop?" Dean suggests.

"I'm boring you then?" Castiel speaks so calmly Dean can't be sure if he's being sarcastic throughout all of their conversation, which Dean notices to be the longest one he's had his entire life.

"Boring me? Baby, this is the most fun I've had all year," Dean says as he slams his hands on the table and gets up.

* * *

Castiel proposes an innovative coffee shop where you build your own coffee. Dean is sceptical of the place, but trustful of Cas, so they drive there anyway. The drive isn't too long and they enjoy the silence. Dean studies the place upon arrival. Wooden walls with metallic pipes for decorations. The pacific stands mightily behind the large window. Maybe they did drive too far. One wall is a large chalkboard covering almost all of the wall with different drawings, stories and quotations. The opposite wall is made up of different compartments, where he could choose everything from the type of coffee to the type of sugar he wants. At the end was a payment area with the words 'Self Checkout' written in bold silver letters. He is about to complain until he sees the excitement in Castiel's eyes.

They approach the coffee-making station and Dean scans the different kinds. Castiel smells each type of beans while Dean reads the countries they originated from and decides to choose Hawaiian coffee beans, since they are the only ones imported from American soil. Castiel reaches for the Brazilian one.

"You have expensive taste then?" Dean teases.

"Actually, most of the coffee you drink is Brazilian. They're the biggest exporter of coffee. It's nothing special, but it definitely is tasty," Castiel corrects him, and Dean presses his tongue in his cheek.

After brewing the coffee, Dean doesn't do anything else to his cup, but Castiel looks through the different types of milk and settles for almond. He then puts a packet of brown sugar and stirs the coffee. Dean enjoys the clinking sound of the spoon against the cup, and he makes a small jingle out of hit.

They both sit down and before Dean could drink, Castiel reaches out with both hands, grabbing Dean's wrists. After a moment of locking eye contact, Cas speaks.

"Maybe we should put ourselves in each other's shoes. Drink my coffee, and I'll drink yours."

"Sure."

Dean tastes a sip and he crinkles his nose slightly. It's not terrible, but it's not what he's used to. Dean liked routine. He wants to like it for Castiel, though, so he drinks more. Castiel bites his lip from the bitterness. Dean smiles.

"Let's play a game. I'll ask you a question that you have to answer, but the rule is I can't comment on your answer and then you ask me a question in return, and vice versa, got it?"

"I don't need Stanford brains to understand a game," Dean says defensively.

"Being in Stanford isn't a proof of anything, Dean. I'm sure that if you tried hard enough too, you could get there. Point aside," Cas quickly cuts Dean before he can reply, "Relationship with your parents?"

"Good with my dad, mom's dead. Relationship with your siblings?"

"Bad; they don't like that I'm different. Best memory?"

Dean felt like the word 'today' is on the tip of his tongue, because he'd never done anything like it, but instead Sam comes to his mind. Dean's heart starts speeding, but instead of picking up the phone, Dean answers Cas' question.

"The day Sammy got his acceptance letter along with the scholarship. We both wanted it more than anything else. This boy is meant for great things, Cas. We drove around town and I took him drinking. There was some karaoke involved and though he's the world's shittiest singer, seeing him so happy made me feel like I did something right, you know? It's great, man." After remembering that day, swallowing Castiel's coffee becomes a lot easier. "Worst memory?"

Castiel pauses for a few moments. Dean didn't think much of the question, he only realised that he just asked an almost-stranger to confess their worst memory.

"The day I told my family I was leaving med school," Dean relaxes as Castiel speaks. "My dad locked me in my room and told me it wasn't going to happen even over his dead body. He forgot that I could climb out of the window, which I did. Zachariah, my older brother, and one of dad's favourites, dragged me back into the house. My mother was the one who stepped between us. She asked them to let me do my own choices, even if they're the wrong ones. She doesn't ask for much, so they agreed. My dad isn't a bad person, but he's just too blinded by his own vision to see the needs of others first. Are you in a relationship?"

"Got out of one recently. Well, actually, a year ago. Are you in one?"

"No. Sexuality?"

Dean shifts uncomfortably and the coffee sticks to the back of his throat.

"Gay, which is why the relationship ended, considering she was, well, a she," Dean rambles, which he guessed would make it easier for the both of them to swallow it. "Sexuality?"

"Gay," Castiel says casually and Dean scratches the skin above his eyebrow.

"Nice."

 _'Nice'?_ , Dean thinks to himself.

"What did you think of my coffee?" Castiel nods his head to the almost empty cup.

"It tells me that you're creative. I don't like the sugar much. What did you think of my coffee?"

"It tells me you like routine and the easy way out. I felt it wasn't too risky."

"I'm risky!" Dean exclaims then looks up to the ceiling, wondering why these words were flowing out of him.

"Okay, risky, where do you want to go next?" Cas wonders as he finishes Dean's coffee.

"A drive thru coffee place," Dean insists.

"Why?" Castiel quizzes him.

"You'll see."

* * *

"You need to slow down!" Castiel shouts as Dean drives at 80 mph.

Dean just grins and presses down at the gas, cruising down the PCH. The windows are rolled down and the warm April air rushes in. The sun is almost set, leaving the sky in a warm colour, and Dean finally understands why. Kurt Cobain screams through the speakers and Castiel looks extremely uncomfortable so he switches the channel to an indie one. Dean doesn't comment since Cas looks a lot more comfortable now. He inhales in the fresh air and eyes trail the scenery.

The street lights are now just streaks, the ocean just a blue blur, and the other cars targets to be surpassed. Right now, the world was just about Dean and Castiel. Dean feels the rush in his blood, spreading around his body. He feels as if he's offering Cas a favour – as if they both needed this.

They reach the drive-thru coffee shop, which Dean discovers is a Starbucks. He shoots Castiel a look, who just smirks back at him.

"I'll have a cappuccino," Dean says, contemplating change.

"I'll have an iced coffee, no syrup," Castiel calls out to the machine, slightly leaning over Dean. Dean's muscles freeze. He's convinced that if he moves, the whole world will fall apart. Cas looks him in his green eyes and slowly leans back into his seat.

"I like this compromise," Dean smiles at Castiel as they wait for their coffee.

"How long are you staying in California?" Cas asks and Dean's smile faded.

"I'm staying the week. I leave on Friday night, I have to work the shift on Monday."

"Bar or garage?"

"Garage in the morning, bar at night," Dean shrugs.

"We can do a lot in California during a week's time!" Castiel says excitedly and Dean's smile finds its way back. They will spend more time together.

"Sam will have to join though. You should get to really know him. He's so great."

"Of course, I'd love to know him."

They drink their coffee as they drive down south Silicon Valley. They stop at a few more coffee places in the area but decide to share one cup from now on because they already consumed too much caffeine. Dean stop for gas a few coffee shops later, before they drive up north back to Stanford. They reach the school around 2am, neither one tired. He parks in the same spot he did in the morning and they both check their phones. He thinks Sam would be mad, angry and frustrated. But there are only two texts from him. The first one says he's done with class. Dean reads the next one.

_I hope you're having fun :)_

Dean smiles and looks at Cas who has already put his phone away.

"You know what? I think I want to go back to Coupa," Dean confesses.

"Me too," Castiel grins.

Dean is surprised to find out the coffee shop still relatively busy with students at this time. Stanford never sleeps, he has come to discover. That would be something he would enjoy if he attended any university. They sit in the same table they met, with a latté and half a sugar. They exchange the cup in silence until it's empty.

Dean knows this is the right time, and like a lot of other things he does, he doesn't think much of it. He leans in and kisses him softly. Castiel kisses back, his lips soft and sweet with all the sugar he consumed today. Maybe they are always sweet. As the kiss gets longer, sweeter and more passionate, Dean feels like he wants to know if Castiel's lips are always sweet, and if his voice is always this raspy, and if he truly always dresses up like this, and if he goes on trips with strangers all of the time, and his morning routine, and the story behind the cut on the right side of his forehead.

They pull back for breath simultaneously, pressing foreheads gently.

"I think I like this place best," Dean admitted.

"Me too," Cas smiles, that lopsided rare smile of his.


End file.
